


Just Crash Here

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Community: choc_fic, F/M, Kissing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It occurs to John that he doesn't have a right to jealousy but he feels it all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Crash Here

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the choc_fic challenge, September 2007 to the prompt: "Possessiveness behavior/jealosy - This is not what you think/John interrupts Teyla and Ronon, but I only want John/Teyla pairing."

Laughter soars out of the infirmary room, halting John at the door.

His fingers close tighter around the stems of the flower he cajoled Katie into letting him take from her greenhouse as he listens. Beneath Teyla's delighted laughter, Ronon's low chuckle resonates, a harmony in John's ear, but a discordance beneath his breastbone.

He's felt it more than once in the days since their return, this sensation of standing on the outside when it comes to Teyla and Ronon. Though he tries to be rid of it, the feeling lingers.

For six weeks, John lived in limbo, no longer of Atlantis but unable to feel like he was a part of the SGC - no longer of Earth and unable to be where he wanted to be, with whom he wanted to be. For six weeks Teyla and Ronon lived among her people on Athos, family and familiar, close as only two people who'd shared the same experiences could be. Who'd be surprised if that closeness turned to intimacy?

He takes a deep breath and plunges in, telling himself he’s okay to intrude. They wouldn’t mind.

Teyla looks up at his entry and a warm smile breaks across her lips, welcoming him in. "John."

Ronon turns and grins. "Sheppard." There's no challenge in the smile, no possessiveness in the look the younger man gives him, just a welcome.

Relief is like a hard grip on his shoulder, comforting as he comes forward to offer his 'get well' present. Then he sees the flower already sitting in a glass by Teyla's bed, and holds up his own offering with an expression that's probably more grimace than smile.

"It was well-thought of," she says reassuringly as he offers the stem. "Elizabeth says it is the thought that counts."

"So whose thought...?" John trails off as Ronon lifts his hand in answer, but he forces a smile. “Great minds think alike,” he says, slipping the flower into the glass and hesitating beside the bed. “So,” he says, figuring he might as well start the conversation, “when are we allowed to spring you from here?”

“Carson wished me to stay in the infirmary overnight,” she says. “But I have persuaded him that I will be fine in my own rooms.”

Ronon mutters something uncomplimentary and Teyla turns to him. “You, also, prefer to sleep in your own bed, do you not?”

Jealousy's harsh hand clenches around John’s heart, but the rough lump of betrayal persists in his throat even after Ronon explains about the injury in a bar-brawl during the six weeks of separation and his insistence on New Athos.

As they launch into a series of exchanged reminiscences, it occurs to John that he doesn’t have a right to jealousy but he feels it all the same.

\--

All men have their moods.

Teyla has learned to recognise and weather the moods of her team-mates, and John in particular. Rodney is transparent and Ronon is easily read, but John conceals his feelings and Teyla does not always understand the processes that run his thoughts.

He was quiet when he came to see her - quiet for John, that is. The jokes were made, the lightly sardonic quips thrown into the conversation, his usual conversation. And yet, he was troubled beneath the pleasantry, his cares weighing him down.

In the peace of her room, Teyla reflects on her team-mate. Carson mentioned John’s discontent on Earth, Rodney’s complaints, Elizabeth’s withdrawl - they should be glad to be back in Atlantis, and so they are.

And yet something darkens John’s thoughts here in the city he loves so much.

She glances out the window at the lavender evening, blue night falling upon the city but not quite there. Evening is her favourite time of day, neither day nor night, caught between the two. In her more whimsical moments, she supposes that the evening symbolises her life - caught between her people’s daily needs on New Athos and her people’s long-term needs - freedom from the Wraith.

The soft chime of her door rouses her from her near-meditative state, and she is surprised to find John standing at the door looking uncomfortable.

“John?”

“Hey, Teyla. I was just passing and thought I’d drop by, see how you’re settling back in.”

“After the infirmary?” She asks, surprised.

“After the move from Athos.” His gaze fixes on her windowsill and he frowns. “Three flowers?”

Teyla follows his gaze and laughs. “I suspect Dr. Brown of complicity,” she admits. “Rodney brought me the third flower after dinner and actually apologised for not visiting me while I was in the infirmary.”

“He didn’t visit you at all?”

“He said he had other things to do.”

“So did I!”

Teyla smiles. “I would have been hurt had you not come to visit me, even amidst your duties, John.”

“Yeah, well...” He glances away, rubbing at the back of his neck in a gesture she recognises as uncomfortable. “I guess you had Ronon.”

“Ronon is not you,” Teyla says, watching him relax a little at her words, and wondering that he needs such reassurance. She seats herself and gestures him to a soft chair by the window.

“Yeah, I guess...” John perches right on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together before him. “You guys seem...pretty close since you came back to the city.”

She has seen this technique used by others in Atlantis - a careful treading around the question like hunters circling a pit in which they believe they have caught prey but are not sure. Her own people employed less obvious means of determining if there was more than companionship between her and her team-mate, but the path is much the same.

“If you ask if we are lovers,” she says, watching him carefully, “the answer is no.”

His gaze skitters up, meeting hers for but a moment before he looks back down at his hands. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to--” He breaks off.

She lets the blatant lie pass this time. The Lanteans use polite lies like armour, to protect against their inner selves, and she respects their ways, although she would scorn to do so herself. “Would it make a difference to us?”

Swift as a striking slitherer, John’s head rears up in disbelief and hope. “Us?”

“The team.” And now Teyla knows why he asked, and what he will not say.

She does not know whether to smile or weep, to reach to or to draw away, to speak or to remain silent. Love is both simple and complex, and Teyla never forgets that she is a stranger in a strange city or that John is a stranger from another world and that between them lie the Wraith and their defeat.

John says something about the rules and regulations, about chains of command and how it technically doesn’t apply in Atlantis, but Teyla does not listen so much as observe him. He shifts, almost wriggling in his discomfort and his anxiety not to be mistaken, but what he says is not what his body tells her.

When he explains that her personal relationships are none of his business while his right hand rubs over his left knuckles, Teyla decides that she has heard enough.

His mouth is still open when she kisses him, a light brush of her lips against his, a slight tingel. And when she lifts her mouth from his, his hand comes around the back of her neck to bring her back to him.

It is, perhaps, some time later when they break apart, and Teyla warms to the wonder in his eyes.

“You were saying,” she says with a small smile. “About my personal relationships?”

John makes a face at her and draws her back down.

“I talk too much,” he says.

 


End file.
